


Embrace the Dark

by catcher in the light (journeycat)



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Thunderstorms, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeycat/pseuds/catcher%20in%20the%20light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no salvation for them, but at least Avilio can pretend in the forgiving quiet of night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will learn how to write something that isn't smutty or angsty.

_the night is old and he is drenched in blood like his mother’s favorite red dress_

Avilio woke up retching and he quickly hung his head over the side of the bed, but despite the waves of nausea he could only gasp and spit. He lay like that for awhile until the urge to vomit finally began to ebb. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He sat up to wipe the sweat off his brow and catch his breath. The rain drummed a steady staccato against the windowpane in rhythm with his heartbeat. He was hot, and suffocating, and everything seemed too small. He needed a cigarette.

He lit one while still in bed, moving to the window once the smoke began to curl. He cracked the window and exhaled into the rain. Exhale these memories, drown these nightmares, exorcise these demons and give him peace. He had the sudden urge to pray, though his hand had not touched a Bible in years and he had long since forgotten the Gospels. What would he say? _Give me something, God, if not peace then something. I deserve it after all you’ve taken from me. Amen._

“The devil are you doing up?”

In the rain-warped reflection of the window, Avilio saw Nero sit up in bed, rubbing his neck.

“Time is it?” he said around a yawn. “The hell? It’s three in the morning.”

_and he is drenched in blood like a fourteen-year-old murderer_

The nausea returned and he gagged, choking on smoke that burned his lungs. Nero was beside him in an instant to slap his back unhelpfully. After a few minutes the coughing subsided, but Nero did not remove his hand. Avilio did not know if he wanted him to or not. 

“Are you sick?” Nero asked. His hand moved in slow, soothing circles. “Or did you have a bad dream? You toss and turn a lot at night.”

“I just don’t sleep well.”

It was both a relief and a disappointment when Nero took his hand away from his back, but then it was on his face, tenderly slipping beneath his bangs to test for a fever. Avilio closed his eyes at the touch, warm, rough with callouses. Only he knew the sweetness of those hands as they held him close in bed. It made him feel superior that he alone could make Nero whisper embarrassing, romantic words that his subordinates like Barbero and Tigre would be horrified to hear him speak. 

But his happiness was disloyal to his family; his happiness was not allowed.

“No fever,” Nero said. “I won’t make fun of you for having nightmares, you know. I have them, too.”

He took Avilio’s hand and kissed its clammy palm. His goatee was scratchy, but he didn’t mind. He liked the way it felt when he kissed him, and buried his face in his neck, and lay his head on his bare chest with his eyes closed to hear his heart beat.

This was not allowed.

“Stop running away from me,” Nero murmured. “No matter how many walls I break down I find another right behind it. We’re partners, you’re my righthand man, and I want you to trust me as much as I trust you.”

_and he is drenched in blood like a knife in the back_

Before he could stop himself, Avilio clutched at the hand holding his, a lifeline for a man who could not be saved, and Nero drew him into an embrace. He was so warm and smelled so good and like a fool he softened in those arms. In the light of day he remembered, vividly, why he returned to Lawless, and it was that long-awaited vengeance that kept him by Nero’s side. But at night the Nero who killed his family was not the Nero who kissed the back of his neck and told him all his secrets. There was no greater agony than loving a man as much as hating him.

When he sent Nero to hell, Avilio would follow close behind.


End file.
